Blair walked through the dim aisles of the grocery store, scrutinizing the shelves like someone accustomed to living on a tight budget.
She picked up a generic sunscreen brand, studying the price tag with a furrowed brow. The cost of everything seemed to stretch her meager budget. Her fingers drifted over the shelves, seeking the best deals on moisturizer and facial wash.
As Blair walked towards the toiletries section, she noticed a new magazine rack near the checkout that caught her attention. The glossy covers of several business magazines gleamed under the store's harsh lights.
Blair felt her heart race. The magazine cover featured her grandfather and father for their successful release of an innovative product that attracted a lot of attention. The bold headlines and bright images of their smiling faces mocked her current situation. Standing in a store where every penny mattered.
Her lips twitched in amusement as she glanced down at the sunscreen and moisturizer in her basket. Well, Grandpa, guess who's the real financial genius now?
They can talk about revolutionary products all they want, Blair thought, a smirk creeping across her face. But have they ever hunted for half-off toothpaste while mastering the art of coupon stacking? Didn't think so.'
She picked up a bottle of shampoo, turning it over with a critical eye. 'Prioritizing needs over wants? Check. Resourceful? Absolutely. And who needs overpriced skincare when you've got store-brand treasures like this?' She dropped the skin lotion into her cart with a flourish, feeling like a budget-savvy superhero.
'Honestly, if anything, I should be on the cover of that magazine,' she mused, glancing back at her grandfather's smug expression. "Blair Wilson: Budgeting Queen—Making Every Penny Count!"
With a small, triumphant grin, Blair tossed a pack of kitten food in her basket and removed the moisturizer, sunscreen, and facial wash. 'Take that, Grandpa. Turns out, I am a financial genius. Just... on a slightly different scale.'
Blair stared at the kitten food in her basket, its premium packaging practically shining. "This is just... a treat," she mumbled under her breath. "Yeah, a treat. I'm simply paying it in food for being a good therapist."
She smiled, convincing herself she was in total control. "I'm not getting attached. This is strictly professional."
Blair stood at the checkout counter, meticulously counting the change she'd received from the cashier. Every penny counts these days, and she wasn't about to let a single coin slip through the cracks. Her fingers moved swiftly over the crumpled bills, but something made her pause.
A familiar figure caught her eyes.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she spotted a tall man standing three people behind her in the queue. Dark hair, sharp features—he looked just like him.
Ezra Taylor.
Blair's pulse quickened, and she immediately averted her gaze, stuffing the change into her pocket haphazardly. She felt too afraid to glance back. Without a second thought, she grabbed her grocery bags, her arms straining under their weight, and bolted for the exit.
Her breath came in short bursts as she darted through the automatic doors, heart pounding in her ears. The bag felt heavier with every step, but she didn't slow down.
"Of course, it wasn't him," Blair muttered under her breath as she sank into the backseat of the taxi. "I'm lost in my own fantasies once more."
…
Ezra Taylor sat in the backseat of his black luxury car, the low hum of the engine barely a murmur against the quiet city streets. With a straight back, one leg crossed over the other, and his hands casually resting on his lap, his posture was as impeccable as ever. His cold, piercing gaze was fixed on the tinted window. His features were striking—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a perfectly straight nose that gave his face a sculpted look.
Ezra was the embodiment of icy perfection, a man who commanded respect and fear without uttering a single word. Everything about him exuded an air of untouchable authority, the kind that made others shrink in his presence.
The car moved smoothly, and the engine's soft hum was the only sound until a faint noise interrupted. A quiet, muffled sound.
He initially ignored it, but then he heard it again—a soft sniffle and a slight tremor in the driver's breath. The man was trying to keep it quiet, his distress hidden as much as possible.
Ezra's sharp eyes shifted slightly to the middle-aged driver/bodyguard in the rearview mirror. The man's face was calm, and his eyes were on the road, but the tension in his jaw showed he was holding back emotions.
Another quiet sniffle.
"You appear to be troubled, Gab," he remarked, addressing the driver by name. "Pull over and let me drive," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "What's going on?"
Gab took a deep breath before speaking, his voice reflecting with sympathy and concern. "I spotted Blair Wilson struggling with multiple heavy bags of groceries, sir."
Ezra's brow furrowed slightly, his attention sharpening. Gab continued, his tone softening as he spoke about Blair's predicament. "She must be finding it very hard to adapt to such a big change, living a life very different from what she was used to." Gab said softly, the words laced with genuine concern.
Gab's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "How could they be so cruel to an innocent, pitiful child?" he murmured, his voice heavy with disbelief. "No matter what accusations her grandparents made, I refuse to believe any of it."
The next day, Gab accompanied Ezra to the campus as his bodyguard. As they neared the glass-fronted cafeteria, Gab noticed Blair, who seemed distant from her former friends. The vibrant laughter and chatter of her former circle echoed nearby, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts alone.
"Just say hi," Ezra suggested, his cold blue eyes steady and unreadable, hiding his thoughts behind a wall.
Despite his deep longing for Blair, Gab firmly turned down Ezra's proposal.
"Sir, if you don't plan to return her feelings or fight for her, I urge you to keep your distance for her sake," Gab said with concern. "False hope can hurt more than a cold shoulder. After all, she successfully avoided you for months, even though it couldn't have been easy for her."
Gab, as Ezra's oldest bodyguard, understood better than anyone the depth of Blair's feelings for him. She was like a magnet drawn naturally to Ezra, her energy and affection always orbiting around him, whether it was to share a moment of triumph or to seek comfort during difficult times.
In the bustling cafeteria, the air was thick with the aroma of freshly baked pastries and sizzling fries. Blair sat at her table, focused on her lunch, when Spencer, her long-time nemesis, plopped down a short distance away.
"Seriously, how can people think that pineapple belongs on pizza?" Spencer exclaimed, his voice dripping with mock horror as his phone glued to his ear.
Blair narrowed her eyes. Her expression transformed into one of discontent. "Because it's absolutely delicious!" Hawaiian pizza with extra pineapple is a masterpiece!"
Spencer paused mid-rant, his mouth hanging open. "You're kidding, right? That's like Bacon and Maple Syrup."
Blair smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Hey, keep in mind that taste is subjective!" So, I still think melted chocolate on cheese pizza is a culinary masterpiece."
Spencer's eyes widened in horror, as if he had just heard the most terrifying ghost story. "Please, for the love of all that's holy, tell me you don't actually eat that!"
Ezra's piercing blue eyes held an enigmatic depth as they looked inside the cafeteria. His expression was puzzling—half curiosity, half disinterest—as if he were trying to solve an unsolvable riddle.
"Gab," he commanded, his voice smooth yet authoritative. "Leave and come back after school."
Gab nodded and quietly exited, leaving Ezra with his unreadable cerulean gaze.
Ezra walked through a busy hallway filled with students laughing and chatting. His stride with eyes focused ahead, but as he passed by the trash can where he had thrown the bouquet of fresh flowers the day before, something tugged at his memory. His gaze flicked briefly to the bin, and the vivid recollection of his encounter with Samantha surfaced.
She stood there, holding the same bouquet he'd discarded.
"Thought I'd find you here," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She held up the bouquet, slightly wilted but still colorful. "Look what I rescued!"
Ezra stopped in his tracks, a frustration swirling within him. "You really think that picking up discarded flowers is clever?" he shot back, attempting to keep his tone even.
Samantha shrugged, feigning innocence. "Maybe it's just a reminder that sometimes things end up where they're supposed to be."
He glared at her. "What's your point, Samantha?"
"I'm just saying," she replied, a sly smile creeping across her face, "you should know how to dispose of something you don't want properly. Or, eventually, they'll come back to haunt you."
Ezra felt a flicker of unease at her words. "I'm not interested in playing games," he said firmly, trying to shake off the discomfort.
Samantha leaned closer, her expression daring. "Neither am I. But I can't help but wonder, is it for Blair?"
He clenched his jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.
"I don't think so," Samantha said confidently, stepping back and looking down the hall at the students gathering for class. Her voice was smooth, certain, as if she had figured it all out. "You've been pretty vocal about wanting out of the marriage arrangement, after all. So maybe the meaning of these flowers was to crush whatever little hope she still had left. I'm sure you won't mind if I put them to use, right? It'll save you the trouble." Her tone suggested she thought she was doing him a favor, as if she understood exactly what he wanted.
Ezra watched Samantha's retreating figure, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. What on earth was she planning to do with those flowers?
However, by the time the morning class ended, murmurs and whispers trailed his every step. He overheard snippets of conversations as students passed by.
"Did you hear? Ezra gave Samantha flowers!"
"Yeah, I saw her with them. I bet something's going on between them."
Ezra's expression hardened. The flowers. He hadn't given them to anyone, let alone Samantha. But somehow, the rumors had already taken root, spreading like wildfire.